The Astonishing Justice Games
by 13LuckyWishes
Summary: Based off a LJ prompt. Batman's prepared them for this situation, mostly because he's prepared them for every situation. So the 74th annual Hunger Games? Should be as easy to handle as the quagmire of conspiracies that surround it. No, really. Art by SkyDominic.
1. The Steps

Aqualad had been trained for this. If nothing else, Black Canary and Batman had spent an enormous amount of time and energy making sure the Team was adaptable. After all, it was impossible to account for any and every situation in the League's line of work.

Not that it stopped Batman from formulating step-by-step guides to situations where he thought such plans would be needed. For some bizarre reason, Black Canary was always the one to convey these plans to the Team.

Maybe, Kaldur speculated dryly, it had something to do with the fact that when a woman with a supersonic scream spoke, you **listened.**

_Today we're going to go over what to do when you find yourself in one of two situations. The first use for these steps is on a long term undercover mission. We may not have the chance to give you specifics on a cover story, so consider this a one-size-fits-all backup plan._

_The second situation is if you're trapped in a single location for a long period of time. In the event you think a team member could be in a similar situation, but it's impossible to confirm one story with them, you yet again have a handy backup. This shouldn't ever happen, but the League's definitely been through weirder situations. If either of these apply, here's the general outline of what to do..._

Kaldur mentally ran through the protocols he so often repeated for his team. They seemed rather obvious and simple to follow in theory, things only the more hotheaded on his team would forget to adhere to.

Marching through an almost-abandoned street like a prisoner, it was... unduly difficult to keep them in mind just then. Humans dressed in white uniforms surrounded him, pointing weapons that resembled blasters at his head in quite possibly the most hostile manner possible. These officers (or soldiers) seemed to presume his terror at their sheer presence, even seeming put off by the Atlantean's perfectly calm demeanor. Despite Kaldur's usual lack of a large ego, something in their behavior made him yearn for his currently absent water bearers so he could show just how _i afraid/i _he really was (i _why were his water bearers gone where was his team what had happened to them were they on a mission was this Psimon's work again-)_./i

Cold wind that smelled like the ocean he had been fished out of (Wally would surely be proud at the pun) blew through him, and the unpleasant sensation grounded his thoughts. There were rules to follow, and instructions to abide by, so that he could reunite with his team. Until then...

"_Don't lash out, don't panic, and don't immediately try run out looking for the team. You have a worse chance finding them by aimlessly wandering than you do by staying put." Black Canary started, looking pointedly in Superboy's direction._

"_The first thing to do is find out where you are, and then remember where you last had contact with the Team or League. Have at least a general idea of both of these locations. This will help you find one or the other, later."_

He had a general enough idea for the answer to the first part. The sea behind him simply _felt _like the southern Atlantic, though something about the area was wrong in a way he couldn't begin to put his finger on.

The second half was much more difficult. Kaldur knew the rest of his team was in a similar predicament to his, knew it like he knew the ocean quickly retreating as he was marched forward. A completely different story, however, was when he had last seen them, if they had been on a mission, or even how he had gotten near this bizarrely desolate-feeling city at all.

The town itself felt distinctly run down, or maybe that was only the part he'd seen so far. Piers often had that quality, or at least they did in his experience. It was obviously a town focused on fishing, if it was any tell that the only people not out in boats were making repairs to their equipment. Those details made it almost as obvious as the generally fishy smell of the area.

Because the stench of piles and piles of dead fish was obviously going to help put him at ease.

Shoving those thoughts away was important, or the inopportune panic they inevitably led to was going to begin taking its hold on the Atlantean's mind. There were steps in place for a reason, and if he were honest with himself that reason was so that each member could keep an appropriately calm demeanor. It would reflect badly if he, the leader of all people, were to act rashly in such a situation. Priorities.

As the procession went deeper into a slightly more lively town, they approached a series of official-looking buildings that might as well have doubled as fortresses. Kaldur took a breath.

"Might I inquire as to where I am?" he asked to no one guard in particular.

To his surprise, Kaldur actually got a direct answer, if only after a nod from a man that must have been a superior officer. "Welcome to District Four." Fortunately the reply relayed much more information than was intended. Unfortunately, none of the new facts were particularly... good.

The accent as much as the unfamiliarity of the location's name let Kaldur know he was completely lost. The tone in which it was spoken let him know it was a death sentence.

Kaldur needed to find his team.

Instead he was escorted into a stone fortress of a building from which he did not emerge for weeks.

* * *

_Step two: When unable to collaborate a single story with your teammates, feign total amnesia. Don't let anyone catch on that you remember a single detail._

The following is the first interrogation between Peacekeepers Willow and Oak Parneli and the prisoner (P06) captured on 3-12-74.

P06 is a blonde female approximately 15 year sof age. The interrogation was conducted on the same day of her capture.

3:42 P.M.

WILLOW: We can start with introductions, is that alright with you? I'm Willow, and this is my big brother Oak. We only want to ask you a few questions about how you got here. Isn't that right, Oak?

OAK: Hm.

WILLOW: That's Oak-speak for "yes." [laughter] Now, what do you remember about how you got inside the borders of District 8? That's quite an accomplishment for a girl your age.

P06: How should I know? News flash: Electrocution kinda screws with people's memory.

WILLOW: And we apologize for that unfortunate accident. You touched the walls surrounding the District without knowing they were live. I can only apologize for the fact that we weren't able to warn you about it before you startled and backed up against them.

P06: It's just so nice to know you _care._

WILLOW: How about we move on to a different subject? Is there anything you want to tell us about yourself?

P06: Sorry, memory's screwed up, remember?

WILLOW: Can you remember anything at all?

P06: [Cheerfully] Nope!

WILLOW: There's no reason to be difficult about this. I just want to talk to you. But if you can't don't want to then, well, my brother tries to persuade people where I can't. [faux whisper] Don't tell him I said this, but Oak's a whole lot meaner than I am.

P06: So basically you two couldn't be more obvious if you had "good cop" and "bad cop" written on your foreheads.

WILLOW: I'm sorry, but this is your last chance, and then I'll have to leave Oak in charge.

P06: [censored]

[WILLOW exits.]

OAK: Answer the question.

P06: Which one?

OAK: How did you get into District 8 without security being alerted?

P06: Well you obviously found me anyway.

OAK: Don't change the subject.

P06: I didn't.

P06: Keep scowling and your face'll freeze that way.

OAK: Answer. The question.

P06: Ooh, scary. Whatcha gonna do, glare me to death? Or maybe you'll somehow find the courage to assault a teenaged girl with her wrists strapped to a table.

[P06 screams]

...

P06: WHAT THE [censored] IS IT WITH YOU PEOPLE AND ELECTROCUTING ME?

OAK: How did you get inside District 8?

P06: Not fair, I already answered that one.

[P06 screams again]

...

P06: Fine, you know what? Whatever. I don't remember anything. The first thing I remember is waking up behind that factory, these Peacekeeper guys swarm me, I back up against your convenient Wall of Death, and I wake up in the crappiest medical facility since... Since I don't even know what because _I can't remember anything._

OAK: [pause] I'll be sure to pass this information.

[OAK exists.]

[4:25 PM WILLOW enters]

WILLOW: Hey, I'm back. I hope Oak wasn't too hard on you?

P06: Go to hell.

WILLOW: I thought so. It's okay if you don't want to talk about how you got inside. Do you need a minute?

P06: Took you half an hour to get in here after he left, so I'm _pretty_ sure I've taken all the minutes I'll need. Besides, I can handle worse than a stupid wrist-sized version of a shock collar.

WILLOW: Of course you can. I've been thinking, though. You know my name, but I don't know yours. You may not want to tell me, but is there anything I can call you? Everyone's addressing you by a number, and I wanted to be a little more personal than that.

P06: I'm sure you have only the purest intentions at heart. Besides, I don't know if you've been listening to me, because it isn't that I don't want to tell you. I don't remember anything!

WILLOW: It doesn't have to be your real name. It can be anything, really.

P06: Wow, we're having entirely different conversations here, huh?

WILLOW: No, I'm listening to every word you say.

P06: Okay, you know what? Fine. Stop it with the sickeningly sweet act. There are very few people who can pull it off, and _you_ are not one of them. Do that and I'll give you the first name that comes to mind. Who knows? Maybe it'll be mine.

WILLOW: Whatever makes you feel comfortable.

P06: Screw it, just call me ... Call me Alice.

WILLOW: Alice it is then.

* * *

Two months ago, Superboy wouldn't have stayed in District 10 long enough for them to even act threatening. He would have followed his gut instinct that his team was somewhere out there, then in a single bound leapt over the high walls of what seemed to resemble a glorified POW camp to find them.

One month ago, he would have emerged slightly more calmly from the crater he'd created. (Falling from the sky like a meteor and landing in the middle of a city was tradition among aliens, apparently.) Then the white uniforms would have shown up with weapons and he'd have done the same thing as before, but with more broken bones on the soldiers' end.

Two weeks ago Connor would have followed the "Peacekeepers" into their city hall. The damage on people and property would have been minimal, at least as far as the clone was concerned, while he looked for a place where reports came in. Then he'd have held his ground long enough to eavesdrop on a frantic phone call about how five other teens had mysteriously appeared across "Panem." Following this, his actions would have closely followed the first situation.

Unfortunately for everyone but the guards who tried to contain him, Superboy had crash-landed not two weeks ago, but now. He had followed the rules Batman and Black Canary had set down, not lashing out before he knew the entire situation or panicking and hurting someone who was simply as terrified as he. Connor had cooperated the entire time, assuming he could break out soon as the situation called for it.

Instead? It had given these threatening and bizarrely dressed people enough time to plan.

With the threat of his friends' lives being ended should he disappear or even act out, all the progress he'd made controlling his temper seemed worse than useless. The fact that he seemed to be subdued after hearing the threat proved to his captors they were right to doubt his lie about having amnesia after all.

Back in the real world, a burly man in his thirties emerged from his tiny bedroom and snapped the clone out of his thoughts. The man had now changed out of his white Peacekeeper uniform and into something that only looked marginally more comfortable. Connor knew he was the physically strongest Peacekeeper in the District, which made how easily the Kryptonian could have overpowered him even sadder. Still, by human standards he was nothing if not intimidating.

The Peacekeeper, who went by Bale, paused when he saw Connor simply standing there. His eyebrows rose to where his hairline would have been, if only he hadn't been bald. "You can stop standing in the middle of my living room now."

Superboy's blank look was one step away from a glare.

An angry exhale. "Look, you told 'em to call you Kon, right? Well Kon, this house is small enough as is. I don't need an extra waste of space clogging up my cramped hallways." The house _was _cramped, with a tiny kitchen, table, and couch taking up most of what was intended to be a general living area. Other random pieces of furniture and scattered bric-a-brac littered the floor space in between. The entire wooden house was blandly decorated and covered in a layer of dust. "Stick to the couch or go sleep outside, got it?"

Bale muttered to himself, disappearing into another unknown room. From the other side of the door, Connor's superhearing picked up most of what he was saying. "Don't know why ... let him out of containment in the first ... Jerks ordered me to keep an eye on ... got enough of an interest to pull that many strings for..." The rest was unintelligible even if it had been louder, but the things Connor had been overhearing for the past few days had been more than enough to lead him to a few conclusions.

The first and foremost being, his presence in District 10 was not an accident. Someone was willing to go as far as to set up living arrangements for him instead of a cold and leaking room in the back of a prison facility.

Uncomfortably, the clone brushed his way past the room's clutter, moving books that looked unopened off one end of the couch he was supposed to be sleeping on. He sat down, aware that trying to lay on his side would leave at least half of him spilling over the edges of the thin piece of furniture.

He resumed staring blankly, this time out a window opposite his position. It seemed to be late winter, so the hillside dotted with cows was only a greenish brown. Every room he'd been in so far smelled like the livestock that were the backbone of the area, or at least it seemed that way to him.

The house creaked a little, and a few drafts leaking in through the walls told him wind was picking up outside. The roof didn't look like it could hold out rain.

_Step three: If possible, find a place to settle in and call your base of operations. You can't concentrate on recon if your attention is constantly diverted by the need for food and shelter._

Well, it was a start.

* * *

_Step four: Make as many allies as possible in the surrounding area._

_Or, Robin added only half-jokingly, try to make them hate you as little as possible._

**5:00 A.M.** William East (Wally West, really, but what kind of secret identity would he have if he gave it away to every alternate dimension that asked) is, tragically, awake. He rolls out of bed and his pajamas at a painstakingly normal pace. The sole set of clothes to his name consists of the long sleeved white shirt, blue over shirt, jeans and sneakers he arrived in. The clothes obviously fit at one time, but now they hang off of him like a kid trying on his dad's suit.

**5:10 A.M** Wally exists his repurposed closet ready to face the day. An electric door slides shut behind him with a small iwhoosh./i The rest of the house is Spartan in every sense of the word. Everything from the rounded, plasticine furniture to the white walls manages to feel vaguely threatening. It all fits the house's owner too, ironically enough. Said owner, Circuit himself, is waiting in the kitchen with his back to the door Wally came through. He swings open the front door when he hears the redhead enter and walks outside without so much as a pause or glance backwards.

**5:30 A.M. **The two merge with the rest if District 3's Peacekeepers all clogging up the road to their headquarters. The building hasn't even opened for the day yet, and Wally and Circuit are near the front of the entry line because of their early wakeup time. Circ, as people who aren't Wally tended to call him, seems to resent the four or five people in front of them. The lights flicker on inside the gray building automatically and the first in line steps up to be admitted inside.

**5:34** **A.M. **Circuit's eye is scanned by a panel on the wall, then Wally's. The few members of the building's night guard that still linger nod to the former and ignore the latter completely. The redhead follows Circ like a ghost through a network of hallways, unacknowledged by anything not mechanical.

**5:40 A.M.** They stop in a hall of metal lockers. Circ places his hand on the one belongin to him, a brief light scans it in, and the door slides open. The white uniform inside is removed, and Wally waits while Circuit disappears into a changing room.

**5:55 A.M.** Wally is standing on a street corner behind his designated Peacekeeper. He hasn't been allowed outside a fifteen foot radius of the man since he'd been put under "strict observation." Apparently this isn't a large deviation from Circuit's normal job, which is standing on a street corner and intimidating people. It works, and Wally's fairly sure no one has so much as looked him in the eye for weeks. Not that he's lonely or anything.

**9:18 A.M.** Circ's hand reaches to his ear, taps the comm in it, and freezes while he listens to a voice on the other end. A smile is quelled on the edge of his lips, and then he's marching down the street with a sickening vigor. Wally follows because there's always a faint hope that he can do isomething/i to stop what's coming, and because he has no other choice.

**9:22 A.M.** A group of men in white uniforms is gathered outside of a small home in the better part of District 3. Circuit joins them in surrounding all exits, and once two more arrive the group acts on a silent signal to storm the front door. Wally watches the movement behind the house's drawn curtains from the road, completely tense. The door opens with a loud, splintering crash, and the kid they drag out can't be older than Rob. His leg is in a cast that's being carelessly banged around as he's carried by either arm. A woman races towards them, then stops in the doorway. She looks as helpless as Wally feels. The kid is dumped on the ground and the few passersby speed up their walking pace or stop to obviously, obnoxiously stare.

Two Peacekeepers balance him on his knees, and he has just enough time to make pleading eye contact with Wally before Circuit steps in between the two. With his first smile of the day, the Peacekeeper drives a fist into the brunette's stomach. Wally can only watch and run a finger over his upper arm, the invisible spot where they implanted a "kill switch." He tries to think of something he can do to stop what's happening, anything to be less useless and still continue with the Six Step Plan. Maybe it's time to give up on that whole thing anyway. (He's already tried to do both, and it turned out, well, they have the Thing of Death in his arm for a reason.)

**11:15 A.M.** The two stand in silence as Circuit is issued a new stark white uniform because evil futuristic dictator technology still isn't enough to get dried blood out of white cloth.

**12:00 P.M.** Lunch can be considered enough or even large for a normal human being, which is probably a luxury in any District. Trying to not feel like an ungrateful jerk is hard when he's slowly starving to death, though. Wally is doing his best not to stuff the entire meal down his face at once when Circuit turns from his own food to look him full in the face for the first time. Circuit explains he was told to deliver a basic message that Wally would probably know if he didn't have "amnesia." (The word is spoken with as much disdain as the Peacekeeper can muster, which is a lot.) Does he already know what the Hunger Games are? Wally shakes his head cautiously. A frustrated sigh and walk through of the Dark Days. How the Districts tried to rebel against the Capitol (big surprise there), failed, and were punished for it.

The sight of a little kid being beaten nearly to death wasn't enough to put the speedster off of his appetite, but kids being forced to kill each other in a giant gladiatorial ring probably should be. Almost is. However guilty it makes him feel, self preservation instincts have been taking priority lately. He finishes his sandwich and formulates a plan in order to feel less useless.

* * *

_Step five: Locate any and all potential allies, League or otherwise. Know who your friends are, where they are, and how to get in touch._

_Pat._ A shadow landed on a tiny, inch-thick ledge.

The clink of tools being retrieved from a back pocket. More noises, soft _scratches _and _scrapes_ and _clinks. _The sounds of a third-story window being efficiently worked open.

A door on the inside of the building swung open and the shadow froze, blending in with the dark outside. Hallway lights flickered on with an obnoxious buzz, and then the glare cast from objects inside rendered him practically invisible.

Able to see the contents of the hallway even better than before, the shadow watched as two well-dressed scientists ambled from one end of the hall to the other.

Outside, bare toes dug into a tiny ledge and calves cramped.

The men talked casually, pausing on occasion to laugh or adopt an exasperated face.

Rain's soft patter began, and the slick and cold was no help. It was a long way down.

Finally the two paused in front of the metal door, then exited. The lights flickered off. Fast, efficient, and slightly desperate sounds barely made a dent in the air around their source.

The window slid open and the shadow practically fell inside, albeit with perfect grace and silence.

Bare feet carried the shadow down a concrete floor, following the direction from which the scientists had just come. A metal door swung open, closed, and the hallway was left empty again.

Rain fell in from the still-open window because a good thief never cuts off a potential escape route, and Robin knew that better than most thieves.

Robin found the computers first. They were interfaced like nothing he'd ever seen before, but that was to be expected. Everything seemed to be just a little off in this alternate dimension.

It took him no time at all to master the basics. To make up for such a smooth beginning the coding language took much longer than he liked to figure out. Still, evil geniuses created new languages and operating systems dime a dozen. They all had the same roots, and this one was like every other he'd hacked in to. All but the best-encrypted files were soon wide open to him.

Learning more details about his arrival came first, and Robin lost no time finding the hastily sent messages that were frantically sent from District to District when he was first found just outside 5.

Six teenagers were found on the same date in six different areas.

District 3: A "William East" (really, Wally?) had been found to possess a genetic anomaly with undetermined ramifications. He had shown no signs of abnormalities, but was being kept under strict supervision and had been implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 4: The finer details of Kaldur's (no last name available) information were encrypted. All he could access on short notice was a small note that read "held for observation until further information can be aquired." Roughly a week later, another general notice went out stating he had been released from observation. Under strict supervision and implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 5: Timothy Grey, Robin was amused to find, had been deemed the most harmless. Being thirteen and tiny still held advantages, as much as his pride hated to admit it. Under light supervision and implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 6: Megan had apparently managed to shift her genetics to mimic a human's. The slight genetic anomaly they have still been able to find had earned her an "Under strict supervision and implanted with a tracer/kill switch" notice.

District 8: Alice Green was a normal human being with a talent for making enemies. Every note written about her was scathing, and no humane containment solutions were recommended. Nonetheless, she was under strict supervision and had been implanted with a tracer/kill switch.

District 10: Scientists had been unable to obtain a tissue sample from Kon (no last name available). Placed under strict supervision until a tracer/kill switch could be custom made into a metal bracelet.

Robin felt his lips twitch upwards into a grin and began to dig up a map. The sooner he could formulate a plan to gather them the better. He rummaged through files until he found what seemed to be a tourist's guide to Panem (should an outsider decide to take a road trip to an evil dictatorship, he guessed?). The map he found was friendly and brightly colored. Each District was marked with a small cartoon icon displaying its trademark industry.

Less whelming was that these six Districts were scattered to the far corners of what was clearly an alternate-universe North America. He memorized the location of every mark on the map because his training made it impossible for him to do otherwise.

The largest problem was that without a coordinated effort of some kind, the likelihood that they would be captured before they could even find one another was astronomically high. Not that he wasn't risking it already, but he _needed_ the "harmless kid" image he'd managed to keep. Running away and being caught would destroy that.

Well, that and the Six Step Plan for Being Stranded had been imprinted into all of their brains which dictated he couldn't leave until he had more information about the surrounding world.

Now slightly more aimless in his quest for information, Robin opened several files at once and skimmed through them with no real purpose. Half of his instincts demanded he float back out the open window a few hallways back before he was caught. The improvised jamming equipment wouldn't hold back the building's silent alarm forever, not to mention the miniature taser he had embedded in his arm. Who knew what other exciting features they'd included with the small device.

On the other hand, this was most likely his last shot at this much information. There had to be **something**. One big event where the Districts had any chance at interacting with each other.

He thoughtlessly opened a file entitled "The Hunger Games," then grinned.

The room's metal door swung open with a loud clang. The echo that filled the mostly empty concrete room would have dazed most other people, but Robin reacted immediately. Grin melting into a scowl because these people had the worst timing ever, not to mention the way his limbs were jerking around, he stared hard at the screen and gathered the last few details he could about the event. At that point he only stopped because it was impossible to keep his eyes trained on any one object.

Were the Boy Wonder more coherent he would have made a witty comment that somehow mangled the English language. As it was, the most prominent of his thoughts were that 1) He now knew how the "kill switch" worked (not literally, thankfully), and 2) This freaking **hurt**.

Timothy Grey was dragged out of the room for interrogation, but that was okay. He so totally had what he needed now.

* * *

M'gann had spent her time mostly avoiding the thought of just how much District 6 reminded her of Mars.

Maybe it was how no one spoke to her. The way that, when she walked through the street after her assigned Peacekeeper much like a puppy on a leash, those nearby would not-so-subtly part to either side. To be fair, it wasn't as if she could claim the paranoia was unwarranted. The danger in the place she'd found herself in was worryingly high.

_Wonder what the Capitol's up to with landing something like her here? Feel bad for anyone who gets caught up in that mess._

_So if mommy won't let me go near, then there has to be something wrong with her. Maybe Ruby was right about redheads after all._

_I can always smell a rat._

That was another similarity. No one would speak to her. Human customs and privacy aside, she was in dangerous territory, separated from her team, and had started out with no information about anything. Only at some point her frequent mind reading stopped being done out of necessity so much as habit.

_Skin dyed that dark of a green? That has to be, like, tacky even in the Capitol._

"We're injecting you with a tracer that acts as a kill switch if you do anything we don't like." _And also keeps track of your movements at all times. No idea why we were barred from telling you /ithat,i but whatever the higher-ups say..._

In District 6, shapeshifting to blend in was more subtle than it had ever been on Mars. She'd never before had to do it at the cellular level to seem more human. Then again, there was a first time for everything.

_Results say she's a perfectly normal 16-year-old girl. A girl that somehow made it into the most secure facility in the District without being detected, moreover while unconscious. This is going to be a fun debriefing..._

All in all, M'gann was as lonely as she'd been back on Mars. The Martian was convinced it was only a cruel twist of fate that she'd ended up somewhere so similar. The way the sky lit up red at night from a light pollution and smog didn't help the comparison in the least. But then, there really was no place like home.

She'd never liked The Wizard of Oz much anyway.

More importantly, though, mind reading gave her access to important information.

_Step five: Locate a well-known place or event all allies have access to, and rendezvous there soon as possible._

That was the important thing, and even Panem had to hold at least one event that allowed some contact with other Districts. She'd read a few minds deeper than Martian courtesy called for, but again these were desperate times. She knew the rest of her Team was out there. Somewhere.

But it wasn't as if Megan could pick apart someone's mind looking for a clue without them noticing. Specifics were needed for that kind of covert information-gathering...

Then the weather began to slowly warm, and a few hesitant, terrified thoughts about something called the Hunger Games began to surface.

Curious, Megan began to probe.

There was a lifetime of images in the mind of every person she searched. Watching children starve and fight and burn to death once a year, every year from the receiving end of a TV. The fact that what had motivated her on Mars was being used in such a way here was sickening, but not as much as the content itself...

Stopping that kind of thing was what made her a hero. It was why she'd come to Earth in the first place. It was possible to volunteer, and she could only hope that the others had waited in the Districts long enough to have the same idea


	2. Interludes & Reaping Day

**Interlude 1:**

The creepy kid, Timothy Gray, hadn't stopped moving since the beginning of Moby's shift. Maybe Copper had been exaggerating when she described the shape he was in when he'd been dragged into his cell. Beaten to a bloody pulp, she'd said.

It was kind of hard to believe, the way the kid was flipping around. It was probably just another way to brag about how she'd landed the better time slot to monitor the prisoner's security cameras. Most people got brought in during the early evening, late enough for the Peacekeepers to beat the crap out of someone but early enough to avoid a late night. People were always the most restless and entertaining just after they'd been jailed, too. During his shift, the night one, they tended to go to sleep. Because, you know, nighttime.

Boring.

On the positive end, he'd totally avoided getting the short end of the stick this time. Wait 'til he rubbed in Copper's face how prisoner 1016 was putting on a freaking performance for him. At the moment he was doing some flips that definitely proved that however badly he was _supposed_ to be hurt, he was apparently just fine.

He'd stretch, do a backflip to warm up, somersault or cartwheel a lap around the room, then for good measure run up a wall to smack a hand on the ceiling. Every few tricks he'd turn to one of the room's three cameras and take a dramatic bow. Moby silently clapped in his head. Each room was bugged with a microphone too (in case a prisoner decided to mutter his escape plan in his sleep or something?), which meant he heard some pretty creepy things too.

Mostly the kid's laugh, which would echo through his cell's bug to Moby's headset like ... like he'd just seen something really demented and thought it was hilarious.

It was way more entertaining than the other prisoners, who just sat there and glared at the floor or curled up into a ball and cried.

Moby spent the next half hour watching the prisoner flip and bounce his way around the room, and the security guard began wondering if it would be possible to sneak a tape of this out of the facility. Probably not. The only time that Gray stopped moving was right before he left. He paused, cocked his ear to the door like he heard something Moby couldn't, grinned, and promptly sat down. Never had someone so effectively or efficiently twisted himself into a pretzel. An arm looped through a leg for a final pose just before a heavy metal door swung open and two Peacekeepers walked inside.

They glared until Gray got the message to stand up and leave with them. Which was ... weird. Standard protocol stated prisoners were supposed to stew in solitary for 24 hours, for a start.

But hey, these were Peacekeepers. Working for the government, you kind of learned to just accept the "Don't ask, don't tell" details.

The other prisoners were boring.

Okay, so maybe flying around the room like a diva hadn't been the best idea. Robin had assumed he'd have ample time to pass out and recuperate later. But standing still and being normal and silent and _still_ for so long was like being restricted to his Dick Grayson persona for a few months, but worse because everyone around him was shallow _and_ evil. Still. Standing in front of several (self-)important people, it was unduly difficult to not pass out.

And training from the Batman once again wins the "best possible thing to have at this moment" prize!

"You're now under strict surveillance. The device in your arm will activate if you move more than fifty feet away from your assigned Peacekeeper."

Said assigned Peacekeeper wasn't the one he'd had before sneaking into City Hall. The first one had been an angry barely-not-a-teen that kind of reminded him of Roy. Actually, Robin would prefer to avoid thinking about the guy and what could have happened to him. It wouldn't really help anything. The new guy was somewhere between his 20s and 50s, looking huge and intimidating even in his silly white uniform.

More importantly? They were kind of just letting him go. Robin's inner detective perked up and he had to avoid smiling through his slowly swelling eye and lip. "You guys must be pretty confident you amped security up enough to keep me out, then." You know what? Forget trying not to smile. He grinned as infuriatingly as he could, and the other men in the room looked very not-whelmed.

What were they going to do? Change their minds and put him back in prison for being cheeky?

A really old guy in a suit, one that had been standing in the back of the room since he'd arrived, frowned at him and spoke for the first time. "I don't like this, and neither do many other important people. If I had my way none of your or your 'friends' would even be alive right now. Don't push it."

Which was just **fascinating** considering this guy was speaking in what Robin had learned was a Capitol accent. District 5's mayor had practically bowed when he'd walked in the room halfway through the meeting. To be honest none of the decisions that had been made about him or the rest of the Team made any sense at all. Really. Being allowed out in a District, where they could make allies, relay messages, or just run away? So not more appealing than locking the security threats in a tiny room and never letting them out. Well, not from the bad guy's point of view anyway.

So who wanted them in that position so badly?

**Interlude 2:**

"I don't understand why they aren't running."

"They did, sir. They merely left holograms in their places and no one has noticed yet."

"Cute, Joy. But with the level of competence the lower levels are showing, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case."

"I'm not sure what your definition of 'incompetent' is, sir. I'm sure the Webster Dictionary wouldn't agree that it's 'failing to identify children and genetic patterns from an era that's been almost entirely forgotten,' however."

"And I hired you for your sarcasm, not your leniency." An exhale. "It just doesn't make any sense. There's not one of them that couldn't leave right now if they didn't want to, I made sure of it. No resistance to anything they've seen? At all?"

"The speedster threw a fit once. Tried to stop a public whipping."

"Right, right. At least we know they haven't been brainwashed, then. Any other events I forgot?"

"It's not like you to forget detail."

"It also isn't like me to get less than five hours of sleep a night. Hurting businesses wreak havoc on a man's schedule, Joy. Besides, the human brain is designed to forget information it knows it has easy access to. Isn't remembering things part of your job."

"I thought it was verbal banter for stress relief, sir. The assistant job description was just a cover, or did you forget those conversations as well?"

"Should I go back to bantering with Microsoft Sam, then? I hear sticky notes are a popular way for the elderly to remember things as well."

"I feel the need to call you out on your idle bluff, sir."

"Don't push me, Huntley."

"Grayson was caught hacking into 5's files. He's known where the other members of Young Justice are for days. No unusual activity after he was released from confinement, though. Are you sure you don't remember this? You forced the officials into letting him out of prison yourself."

"That means much? I do everything myself. But no, I remember now. I was so sure he'd bolt after he knew their locations, too."

"Actually, sir, we have footage of the Team being instructed by Black Canary that we believe explains it. It's new."

"Footage from the past that's new?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to need more coffee."

"Sir."

"Huntley, before you leave. Why wasn't this the first thing you told me?"

"It's not often I see you at a loss, sir."

"To be completely juvenile, you are a jerk, Joy."

A noise that could be mistaken for a laugh. "Yes, sir."

**Reaping Day:**

"Kon," usually known as Connor Kent or the Superboy, stood in a line of sixteen year old boys and towered over every one of them. Not for the first time he wished he hadn't inherited superhearing from his genetic donor. Then he wouldn't be able to hear every hyperventilating child and parent with the breath frozen halfway out of their lungs and heart trying to beat out of its owner's chest. It was a perfect symphony of terror and chaos, only accentuated by how every outward appearance was one of utter stillness.

Kids tinier than Robin were crowded into sections like livestock, and right then and there the clone decided it was (just barely) worse to be treated as an animal than a weapon. When a small blonde woman beamed a dead smile and walked onto the temporary stage built in the middle of the town square, her high heels echoed under the hollow stage until the whole scene seemed unbearably tense. Three months ago, something or someone would have had a hole punched in them by this point.

Without a hint of the tenseness or remorse everyone else seemed to be displaying, the woman introduced herself, cleared her throat, and talked about things everyone already knew (even him). And talked, and talked, and talked. And in the middle of the talking, paused long enough to regain Kon's attention. Her mouth twisted upwards, she reached into a big glass bowl, and half of the tension in the town square seemed to dissipate, because most of the crowd's children hadn't been chosen. One woman was crying, but not loudly enough to be heard by anyone but Connor.

A short girl with brown hair marched up to the stage.

Next was a boy who couldn't even march. He was too busy making fighting an old pair of crutches that seemed too small for him, but were still necessary because of a mangled leg. The Superboy narrowed his eyes, and waited.

* * *

Had future events not gone as they had, Timothy Gray would have gone down in history as the first and only tribute to _laugh_ as his name was called out to the crowd. What could he say? He hadn't felt like going through all of the trouble of volunteering.

* * *

Megan padded up the stairs to the stage. It was difficult to keep the sudden wash of pity, awe, and thankfulness overwhelm her. The emotions of others were doing their best to convince her she'd just given up her life, and she had to cut off her general mental link entirely to keep the misconception at bay. From the crowd's center of attention, she flashed a quick smile to the girl whose life she'd saved.

* * *

Kaldur faced down the crowds, prepared for four or five voices to proclaim that they were volunteering as well. He was perfectly aware of the concept of a "career tribute" as a way to exploit _the murder of other children _to get ahead. Several boys had loudly boasted that they were going to volunteer that year and become legends.

Silence filled the air because the crowds were expecting the same thing he was, but there was... nothing. Looking out into the sea of faces, those who had wanted to volunteer were either pale faced or not there at all.

* * *

Wally paced around for the allotted hour, practically wearing a hole through the expensive plush rug. It was meant to be time for tributes to say goodbye to their loved ones, so naturally no one was coming to see him. A new sudden rush of irrational nerves hit him, and he wishes that part of the farewell process involved comfort food.

* * *

Artemis, after volunteering, put her skills at ignoring things to use. She ignored the cameras, the crowds, the stunned look on her Peacekeeper's face, the boy tribute she was loaded onto a train with, and the people who claimed they'd be mentoring her until she entered the Games.

The first thing she said was to no one in particular. Well, no one in the room anyway.

What she assumed was Robin's alias, because no way would he use his real name with or without a mask, was called out to the crowd. His laughter was as creepy as ever, and even the TV show hosts had to comment on it.

Her lips twitched upwards. "That little troll."

The other tribute, Tan, was the only other person in the car. He gave her a puzzled look but wisely decided not to comment. Besides, he had his own problems


	3. Arrival

**A/N Thanks to everyone who's subscribed, favorited, and especially to Girl Wonder and Unleash the Shadow for reviewing. This update is for y'all. (Especially for Girl Wonder, since she poked me into finishing this chapter yesterday. Just so you know, I plan on updating at least once a week, and usually on Wednesdays. As such, there's a distinct possibility of me posting more tomorrow.**

Theta spent the first few hours of the train ride watching William be her exact opposite. The boy tribute wouldn't for the life of him stop talking. She was sulking on a ridiculously luxurious couch, only half trying to hear what their District's overly perky TV personality was instructing them about upcoming events.

"Once your stylist is done making you look simply sensational, you'll be paraded around the City Circle. I'll love you two forever and ever if you remember to _wave_ and _smile_, all right? That's all there is to it, and then everyone in Panem will love you on sight as much as I do!"

It was mostly useless advice. Bubbles Summers seemed to be blissfully unaware that it was against the law for anyone to not watch the Games, and therefore more or less **literally illegal **to not know every detail she was sharing.

William, on the other hand, seemed to be fascinated by the exact mechanics of the event. From the way the air head was holding the conversation you'd think he'd never even heard of the Games before. Bubbles just looked ecstatic to have someone take interest in what she said. Almost as happy as the ginger seemed to be just from talking to someone.

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"Hey," the other tribute leaned on the wall across from Theta's perch on a couch, then smiled in a way that may have been intended to be attractive. "So your name's Theta, right?"

She nodded with a half glare, and his smirk softened into something more genuine.

"Have you tried exploring the rest of the train yet? This thing is _huge_, and I'm pretty sure I'd willingly give my own life to have a 24-hour buffet like that in my bedroom."

Theta shrank further into herself, and the thought _Wrong thing to say_ played across the redhead's face. "William, right?" Weird, old name.

"Um, call me Wa-Will. Just Will." Somehow he managed to make the correction seem reassuring, and why were they even having a conversation? It was ludicrous.

"Go away."

He looked hurt for barely a second before resuming his infuriatingly "gentle" act. "Sure. Just let me know if you need anything, or maybe scream at the world or something."

Theta ignored him.

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A full on, completely legitimate conversation was being held with their mentors, Wiress and Beetee. As in they were actually holding their respective thirds of a full dialogue without Wiress getting distracted and wandering off. It had to be a miracle. William was a miracle child.

Even more so, because how did he understand _anything _they were saying? Several minutes ago the words stopped being any less than three syllables long, and the nerds showed no signs of simplifying the conversation. Currently they were entrenched in an explanation of how the Capitol's hovercrafts used essentially the same technology as the trains. Theta didn't really care, but she was too tense to sleep. Not that there was anything wrong with going into a room by herself either, but moving would just take too much _effort. _She curled her legs against her chest and leaned further into the couch's cushions.

Wiress, after lasting it through three _whole entire_ sentences, petered off and began to stare out of the window. Slowly her fingers ran through her short, dark hair. Beetee picked up where she'd left off in the sentence, and he valiantly translated a few of her more cryptic statements as well.

Again, Theta really didn't care, but it was nice to listen to. She slipped off as their conversation shifted to a debate on the possibility of artificial intelligence advancing to the point of autonomy. William was so sure it was possible...

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When she woke up again, it was to the sound of Bubbles trying to explain to William that he wasn't supposed to talk to an Avox unless he needed something. They were there for _service_, not idle chatter, and none had the ability to reply anyway. The tribute countered that he just needed someone to listen anyway, but thanks babe, you can listen to me ramble any time you want. (He thrived on archaic pickup lines, it seemed.) Most of the Avoxes, after their initial discomfort, didn't actually mind much. It was hard to tell with them, though, since not one would glance up from the floor to see their face.

* * *

Physically, District 4's male volunteer looked muscular, level-headed, and if she titled her head (and ignored his **gills**) a bit like he belonged in 11.

Technically, Terra was a Career and he was not.

Theoretically, the brute force of her predetermined alliance gave her an inherent edge over him, even if nothing else did.

Instinctually, she wanted to go hide under the bed from him, clearly a trained soldier, because all soldiers were bad and mean and hurt you because they could and then said it was okay because you were a _Career_, needed to be _tough_, and-

Emotionally, Terra wished she could move past feeling like a terrified six year old.

Outwardly, District 4's girl tribute was stoic.

* * *

Avoiding the other tribute became Amber's most occupying pastime. Polla, her mentor, had given her a kind a vague talk about smiling for the cameras before wandering off to some far corner of the train. No one else seemed interested in talking to her. And, well, there wasn't much point in making new friends anyway. So she'd slipped in and out of all cars on the train, exploring every direction just as a way to occupy her mind.

The other tribute seemed to have the same idea, and Amber only hoped she didn't quite so much resemble a caged animal.

He was huge and permanently brooding, not to mention the rumors that were all anyone seemed to "know" about him. That he was a research subject gone wrong, indestructible, a tool for some higher-ups to keep an eye on District 10. Amber always felt in danger when he was nearby, like he'd suddenly _snap her neck_ (but they had rules and precautions against that did he even care was there anything they could even threaten him with did it even matter in the end she was going to die anyway might as well get it over with to avoid being embarrassed on national television and then being DEAD).

His being near made her mind go places she didn't want them to go. Better to duck out of whatever room he entered and stay numb entirely. So naturally he cornered her when she wasn't paying attention. (How did someone so massive move so quietly?)

"I won't hurt you, you know," he said, then frowned at her like a particularly difficult puzzle.

Amber shifted uncomfortably.

"You don't... you don't have to avoid me. Is all I'm saying." The tribute's stoic demeanor melted. Suddenly he looked unsure of himself and painfully awkward. He scratched his neck while waiting for a reply.

Amber should have, normally would have fake-smiled, nodded, and been less obvious about dodging him. In fact, venomously saying "Why. Just so you can kill me later?" was probably a pretty horrible idea. One of the worst, as far as these things went. Her body had apparently exempted itself from running its actions past her brain.

The frown was back now. "I'm not going to kill you." A pause, and then, "You're not going to die."

Uh huh. "So you're going to let yourself be killed to save some girl you don't know."

"Not if I can help it."

Amber shot him a look that said he was crazy, then marched out of the room with all of the frazzled dignity she had left.

What did that even mean?

* * *

The tributes from District 5 spent their time... not talking, exactly, but definitely getting to know each other.

It started about ten minutes into dinner, when they were being instructed on the best possible ways to work the crowd. People were easy to manipulate, and her mentor wasn't even going into the more _interesting_ things you could do to grab attention.

Voltra was bored, and Timothy Gray looked to be good at hiding similar thoughts. She could tell by the little things, though. How his right arm would twitch a little as his attention drifted away from a conversation. How his small, polite smile was obviously fake because it hadn't changed once the entire train ride.

How he casually flicked a pea at her head.

She dodged it, of course, and pretended nothing had happened. No one else noticed, or at least weren't going to mention it. No point in throwing a fit and getting him in trouble for assaulting a fellow tribute, either. Not that she couldn't, but she hadn't decided how much trouble he would be, if it was even worth it to try throwing him off his game.

A few minutes later, Timothy Gray let his lips twitch upwards as a pea flew back in his direction. He caught it in his mouth, and without looking away from the simply fascinating lecture on not glaring at people who might potentially sponsor them. A quick glance at her said _Beat that_.

It was a carrot that came at Voltra next. She raised a hand and batted it in his direction. He sent it back with his forehead, the showoff.

Later that night, Voltra found herself disarming a tripwire placed just on the inside of her room. When activated, it seemed to release a volley of uncooked peas.

Neither teen was bored for the rest of the train ride.

Tan was going to die, probably. If not because of the Games, then because the girl that had volunteered, Alice, was going to kill him first. He was still watching the TV, because what was there to do other than let the replays of the Reapings and the hosts' meaningless conversation distract him?

Alice was slumped in a chair a few feet away, and she kept muttering things he couldn't understand. It was making him kind of nervous. Maybe it was her personal commentary on what they were watching. Maybe she was just insane. Tan twitched, scratching his arm because his skin would crawl when he was nervous, and all things considered a bath was in his best interest.

The redhead from 3 came on screen in a shot that made him look particularly scrawny. His fellow tribute made to throw an empty glass at the screen before catching herself at the last minute. Tan stood up to go find a hot shower somewhere far away.

Just loudly enough for him to hear, Alice muttered under her breath, "For goodness' sake, you're _not going to die_.

* * *

M'gann had to be the perkiest, most willing tribute District 6 had ever seen. The happiest any District had seen.

Ash, at the urging of the small army of people prepping them for arrival at the Capitol, crumbled food between his fingers as he watched her.

Her name was weird, she'd dyed her skin green, and she'd still managed to put everyone in the car at ease. Even the avoxes seemed to be smiling a little bit as they served her food - were they even allowed to do that?

Instinct said that she was as dangerous as she was lovable, or maybe her lovability was what made her dangerous. Either way, Ash never thought he'd be quite so terrified of a teenaged girl.

* * *

"You've got everyone in an absolute _tizzy_, Darling! Now! Try to hold still while I paint your! Um! Gills!"

A woman that may once have been human under all of her makeup pulled a small brush from nowhere, then proceeded to simply stare at Kaldur while he focused on not twitching. A small army of assistants scurried all around them, trying to complete all of the last-minute costume changes his designer had decided on since watching the Reaping that morning.

Eventually the woman seemed to think of something she liked, because he'd never seen anyone paint something with such an ... enthusiastic demeanor. Silver paint, and then scales began to be sketched out on his neck.

Not to be crude, but **Neptune's beard** that tickled.

* * *

The last time Artemis had worn heels, she was being trained by her older sister on how to make them double as a weapon. It was sorely tempting to put them to use right now. To be blunt, the only thing between her and sweet, sweet stress relief was a hat the size of a small planet fixed on her head. Stupid need for balance. Maybe she could find a way to stab out the eye of her stylist anyway.

* * *

Timothy peered over the shoulder of his designer at the costume he was supposed to change into.

"It could use a cape, and maybe a little more red."

* * *

Superboy hadn't thought he was vain.

But.

Wearing the bottom half of a cow costume was not how he wanted to be formally introduced to the world at large, even an alternate one. The ears and cow bell that everyone swore were adorable?

Did.

Not.

Help.

* * *

According to her prep team, M'gann's stylist had torn the prototype costume to shreds once she saw how the color clashed with the Martian's green skin. Then he took a second look, decided he liked the costume that way after all, and had the official thing completed just before M'gann arrived.

How he had her measurements at all were a mystery to M'gann, but the size didn't matter much anyway. The remnants of a hovercraft hanging off of her kind of fit into the "one size fits all" category. It was a bit revealing, but her stylist told her that it would get her more sponsors that way.

Later, when no one was looking, M'gann used the organic clothes she'd absorbed into her skin to make it. Less so. Still, she wondered what Superboy would think.

* * *

District 3's stylist sighed, exasperated. Her darling redheaded tribute looked adora_stunning_ in the retro-futuristic-technologic costume she'd designed, but he didn't exactly look attractive when he was eating like that! It was disappearing in an absolute flurry, eating ruined his makeup, and waiting for him to get full hadn't been working!

Getting William to set down his plate of food was an ordeal all on its own, and he was scheduled to be presented to the crowds in just a few minutes! She spun a 360 on her toes to distract herself, faced the problem child again, then grinned. That was certainly a gimmick they'd never considered before...

William protested as she jerked the plate out of his hands, which fell to the floor with a metallic clatter. He quieted just as quickly when she marched to the other side of the room and picked up a chocolate bar. Then she paused, glanced back at him, and picked up the whole tray of Greg's Great Gooey Non-Melt Choco-Bar Wonders.

She marched back over to him, shoved one of the bars into his hand, and watched at he began to munch at it. The redhead was regarding her like she'd lost her mind. Of all the **nerve**.

In any case, those chocolate bars was custom made specifically for District 3's use by Greg's Great Goodies. Each and every one resembled an old school circuit board, and it looked like the final compliment to William's costume.

The stylist fixed her stylee with a stern look, told him to eat them _slowly_, and then stepped forward to personally escort him into the bottom level of the Remake Center, where he would line up with the other tributes to be presented.

Now she just needed to talk to Greg about the cost of the continued product placement, and maybe call up Caesar about letting one of his interviewees eat during one of his shows...

* * *

"Is anyone else worried about how at least three of these kids, who we're assured have never once met, keep telling the other tributes that no one's going to die?"

"Of course."

"This means we're not doing anything about it, doesn't it?"

"Can't. There's so much red tape surrounding the potential disciplining of these kids that you could strangle every self-absorbed prick in the Capitol."

"Oh good. I was worried for a minute there that something the Network did might actually work in the Capitol's **favor**."

"Technically the Network has nothing to do with that."

"And technically this is an important committee that's vital for running this country. Go find another choir to preach to.


	4. Presentation

**A/N **

**Thanks again to GIRLWONDER and Unleash the Shadow for reviewing last chapter. It means a ton, and you guys have been so consistent too. ^w^ Other thanks to those of you who subscribed to this as well. All of my readers are absolutely lovely. Every single one of you.**

**Thoughts on this chapter: It's so weird to go backwards in character development like this. I guess one of the *only* downsides to writing in a show where the characters change so much is that, well, their relationships *change.* I started this story just when Zatanna was inching onto the team, so I didn't know her well enough to write. Since she's not on the Team, that lands this story's continuity, and therefore all of the characters and their interactions, in the first half of season 1. Wally and Artemis still (are pretending to) hate each other, Megan and Connor are desperately failing at keeping Supermartian subtle, Connor's still having daddy issues, Wally still flirts with Megan, etc. It's just... weird to bring their development back so many notches after watching them grow. Yet this is the continuity I have chosen, and therefore must soldier on.**

The bottom level of the Remake Center was essentially a glorified stable. And what a stable it was, with high arcing ceilings and surprisingly ornate horse stalls. The horses themselves had clearly earned their life of luxury, being well-trained enough to pull carriages in a perfect row through screaming masses of people, and all without a rider. Each horse's breed and coat was carefully picked to match its carriage's style.

None of the mattered to M'gann, who had just entered the room for the first time. Tributes (something in her always clenched and boiled at the word, and she couldn't wait to act on that feeling of disgust) entered the room in order of their District, meaning Wally, Robin, and Kaldur were all present when she came in. A quick glance told her that the boys were pretending to not know each other, so she refrained from giving them all her warmest smile, and maybe tackling them with a (literal) flying hug.

It was so good to finally see them safe.

For so long she hadn't been sure how the others had faired in other Districts, if any of them were together, whether they had landed in other Districts, in her District, in this skewed world at all (if she was alone). The relief from seeing them, every single one of her team members and friends, volunteer to do the same that she had planned? It was immense, and several surprised Capitol employees may have been inexplicably hugged by her at random intervals of the day.

(Robin was pale and Wally was thin and Kaldur had a drawn, pained air around him. But she could fret later, because for the moment she was near them and they were safe.)

She established the mental link the second they were in range.

-You guys! Is everyone alright?- Relief flooded the mental link, and it was impossible to tell who it was from. Most likely because it belonged to all of them.

Wally casually pretended to look around the room, winking at her and giving a light speed smile before pretending she didn't exist. They must be pretending not to know each other, then.

-Right as rain now that you're here, Megalicious.-

-Same here, Miss M.-

-We are all well, M'gann. Yourself?- It was harder for Kaldur to sound all business when hints of his worry seeped through to her mind.

-I'm fine! Um, is there any reason we're all pretending not to know each other? I don't think we _have_ to stay near these carriages.-

Robin replied, -I went with the amnesia cover story. Kinda hoping everyone else did too.-

-Rob, dude. You realize that Black Canary gave us that whole "what to do when you're stranded in an alternate universe" talk, right? Chick has a supersonic scream, so I'm going to try to listen.-

-Anyone else think that was a little... too well timed?-

-And Bat paranoia strikes again.-

-Ignoring you now, Kid Mouth.-

-You can't ignore the Wall-man, Rob! You just got me back!-

-So Megan, Kaldur, what did you guys tell the Empire of Evil?-

-I told them I had amnesia too, which was kind of easy since every sitcom out there has at least one episode about when a character gets it. Anyway, I don't think they believed me.-

-They did not have to, M'gann. I told them I lost my memory as well.-

-Sweet! So we're all on the same page so far. Now we just have to see if Superboy and Artemis can listen that well,- Robin thought.

Megan brought the newly-arrived Artemis into the link the exact moment Wally thought, -Speak of the she-devil...-

-Nice to see you too, Kid Mouth. Everybody okay?-

-Aw man, does that mean we have to tell her and Supey everything we just said?-

Kaldur took over from there. -Essentially, we are all fine, so long as you are as well. We also all used the same cover story of amnesia.-

-Yeah, I'm fine, and I said the same thing. It's good to know we can all lie so perfectly together.- She paused for an awkward second. -And, you know, that you're all, um, okay, and... stuff. That's good too.-

-Wow, so she can pretend to care after all.-

-Shut it, _Wall-man_.-

-Ooh, never heard that one before, arrow breath.-

-Oh no! Does my breath really smell like arrows? I can never go out in public again!-

-You guys?- Megan cut in. -This isn't really the time.-

-You're right, Megalicious. Nice costume, by the way,- Wally only half-flirted through the link. Robin and Kaldur sighed in exasperation in perfect tandem.

-Connor's here!- Megan declared happily, none too sad to cut into the conversation.

-Hey dude!- Robin greeted once the Kryptonian had been brought into the link.

-Hey. Are you all- -

-We're fine.- Five mental voices reassured at once.

-Oh. Good. That's...- he stopped to think of another adjective. -that's good.-

-Connor, did you tell your District that you had lost your memory?- Kaldur questioned gently.

-Yeah, I wasn't really sure about what to use as a name though.- He brought up a brief memory that M'gann relayed to the rest of them. Superboy had started to say the name "Connor," thought better of it, and petered off at the first syllable. He refused to give a last name. -I went with the name Kon?-

-Hey, it's better than _William East._-

-Dude! You try thinking of creative names with a concussion!-

-Been there, done that, bought that t-shirt.-

Kaldur sighed by himself this time. -I suppose we should wait to debrief until after this ceremony is over?-

-Good idea Kal,- Robin agreed. -Besdies, I haven't had a chance to make fun of all of your costumes yet.-

-Says the dork wearing a giant metal orb on his head.-

-Alas, the addition of a cape was not to be.-

-So Arty,- Kid Flash started.

-I swear I will kill the first person to comment on this getup using only my feet. These shoes have got to be good for something, it might as well be stabbing things.-

-So Megster, your costume looks pretty hot. The minimalist look is good for you.-

-I, um, thanks. Wally. My stylist apparently tore it to shreds, then decided he liked how it looked.-

The link conveyed that Connor wanted to say something, but was too embarrassed. His silence said enough.

-Though I have to admit,- Robin started, -Kaldur all dressed up as a fish kind of seems too easy.-

The silent conversation continued until all 24 tributes were lined up and the crowds were literally screeching for something to happen. Six teenagers simply enjoyed each other's presence while the tension built.

Finally, huge doors swung open to let the two teens from District 1 ride out.

Wally turned to Theta and grinned reassuringly. "You nervous?" She swallowed and shook her head slightly, staring straight ahead.

Their horses started to trot forward onto the long, empty street. The rest of the Team felt through their link the pure overwhelm of bright lights and screaming crowds on all sides and loud music declaring their triumphant presentation. Wally was slightly dazed, but took it with smiles and waves and winks.

The others were more prepared when their turn came.

Kaldur was vaguely reminded of festivals in Atlantis, where celebrated heroes would ride in on chariots to be honored for their deeds. This felt like a thoughtless perversion of that. He remained stoic through the whole thing.

Robin had faced worse from the paparazzi, if not by much. Several girls (and even more middle-aged women) had a new true love.

Megan took it shyly, the memory of what they were really there for keeping her from getting caught up in the glitz of it all. The most she did was smile.

Artemis felt objectified, and used, and her brain had suddenly drawn a weird parallel between this and being praised for learning to always strike a vital point. She became the first tribute to happily flick off the entirety of Panem, though sadly the importance of the gesture was somewhat lost in translation. No one but historians would be anything but mildly confused by her twin extended middle fingers.

Connor glared.

Through it all they were there for each other, not conversing any more but still being supportive nonetheless. Finally they reached the end of the Capitol's long main road, riding in a circle in front of the President's mansion.

The music ended in a flourish, speeches were given that none of them (sans Robin) payed attention to, and they ignored the ecstatic crowds for each other.

Eventually though, one of them (no one could remember who) pointed out that the chariot at the back of the procession managed to steal all of the attention. The futuristic jumbotron kept focusing on District 12's two tributes, who were two literal flaming torches. Their costumes seemed to be a black leotard and cape lit with some type of false fire. (That or they were soaked in fire retardant.)

In the end, it turned out not to matter what the Team looked like or did. District 12 stole the show.

Later, they would unanimously agree that that couldn't have been a better thing.

**Anon review reply:**

**Girl Wonder: Your review made me insanely happy. My… mine is the best? *wibble* *melts into a puddle of happy goo* Hope that the update today makes you happy, even it it's a day lateen than predicted. It was technically written yesterday, but it also sucked, so this is the marginally less awful redone version. ^_^ Was your teacher talking about House of the Scorpion? Love that book. Now that I think about it, there's a lot of YJ/HotS crossover potential… NO. I SHALL NOT TAKE ON MORE FIC. Stop it with the idea giving thing. :P**


	5. Training

**A/N Huge massive groveling over here for missing last week's update. I had my wisdom teeth taken out, and I was on just enough painkillers to keep my too loopy to write. So you get a bonus-sized update to make up for it. Erm, kind of. 3,500 words is "bonus sized," right? *shifty eye***

**But! You may have noticed I tweaked this story's title to The Astonishing Justice Games. That's because I've seen one YJ AU with the title Justice Games, as well as another crossover with the same name. I feel like it could get confusing, and it's quite possibly my fault for choosing such an uncreative name. It'll be kind of important later on, so I didn't feeling right going with something completely different. If you're wondering why I went with "The Astonishing," think X-Men. Also Spiderman. It's a tribute/reference to that style of naming comics and cartoons with corny adjectives. XD**

**More importantly, as always huge huge huge thanks to everyone who favorited and subscribed last chapter, as well as to sloganlogan, Unleash the Shadow, GIRLWONDER, chronos77, Anbu Fox, Die for Pie and Random for all reviewing last chapter. All of my readers astound me with their glorious awesome, mostly for liking this dinky thing I try to call writing a story.**

**Midnight Conversations**

M'gann didn't close down the mental link for _days_.

Like most of the tributes housed inside the world's most elaborate series of hotel suites, none of the Team slept the first night. Instead they talked, and talked about everything. What they remembered before arriving (nothing), how being under surveillance for weeks had treated them (they'd _managed_), and what the merits were of just bolting then and there (regrouping, not bolting - no way they were abandoning eighteen kids to the monster that was Panem).

Kaldur believed it was common for Panem to conduct genetic experiments, if only because that was what he was initially believed to be. He'd been held inside of a lab until an order from a vaguely described "higher up" had brought his release. The Atlantean had then been moved to being babysat (as Artemis insisted on calling it) like the rest of them. Between those two points - he'd managed, and was now well.

(These details were pulled out slowly and painfully, and mostly through Bat-style silence of righteous fury that followed the discussion was the longest period of quiet between them that night.)

Then came the question of if they should just leave. It was certainly a possibility, and a tempting one at that. Robin had already thought of a dozen ways to disable the trackers still in their arms, Superboy could punch a hole in the wall, Megan could fly them out of the building, and from there the team trained for stealth would have no trouble blending into the enormous city. Probably.

Most obviously they couldn't because of those that had been brought there with them. The Games would likely go on without six of the players, but even worse, what if they were replaced? It would be nearly impossible for a famous group of twenty-four teenagers to disappear into a city, much less for them to sustain themselves in the wild indefinitely.

The mythical arena was probably much more difficult to escape from, though not likely impossible. Maybe if they were all taken over on the same ship, they could hijack it. Became pirates from another dimension, supported by their merry band of former slaves and briefly-superstars.

Entertaining as it sounded, Artemis took even more enjoyment out of poking at all several hundred holes in Wally's plan.

They eventually decided to cooperate with Panem's government. It was too dangerous or unthinkably heartless to try to leave before, and besides, Robin was _curious_. Someone honestly wanted them in the Hunger Games, and the detective side of him was burning to know why.

Eventually the conversation became less and less important, devolving from high-minded morals and ways to keep as many people as possible alive in the arena, to ways to earn the trust of the rest of the tributes, to how Kaldur's mentor had suggested he'd fit in well with a traditional alliance known as the Careers, to how Kaldur was now going to be a mole on this alliance, to how if he was already The Mole that Sportsmaster had warned them about, did that make him a double or triple agent, and then somehow the suggestion of the arena being Jurassic Park came up, and how Wally was so going to smuggle in a camera just to take a picture of himself riding a dinosaur, and that since wild animals had a weird attraction to Connor he'd better catch one for each of them...

Before they knew it the sun was up, breakfast was privately served, and they were being escorted into a huge gymnasium full of training equipment and trainers.

Because, you know, they needed to be taught how to survive and fight. Completely new skills.

* * *

**Katniss**

My first three days in the Capitol will be spent training, learning the skills needed for survival in the arena. Training lasts most of the day, and begins first thing in the morning. As I meet Peeta, the boy tribute that came from 12 with me, and Effie, our District's ever-cheery representative, at the elevator to the training grounds, I catch myself biting my nails.

I stop immediately.

The training grounds themselves are actually a huge underground gymnasium. The elevator will take us to it in less than a minute, where the elevators will open into a room filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. By the time we arrive it is only ten, but we are the last ones there. The rest of the tributes are gathered into a tense knot, each one with a cloth square with their District number pinned to their shirt.

The anxiety in my stomach kicks one last time before subsiding just in time for the head trainer to begin speaking. A tall, athletic woman name Atala beings to explain the training schedule as soon as we join the circle. Experts will stand at their own station and teach their specialized skill while the tributes will travel as they want to from skill to skill. The stations teach everything from survival to combat, and sparring partners are provided. No combative exercises with fellow tributes.

As Atala began reading down the list of stations, my eyes flit to my fellow tributes. It is the first time we have been assembled on level ground and in plain clothes. All of the boys are bigger than I am, except maybe the one from 5, and the same goes for at least half of the girls. You can tell that many of them have never been fed properly. I may be smaller naturally, but the combination of meat and plants from the woods and the exertion required to gain them has given me a healthier body than some of those I see around me. This gives me an edge over maybe half the people in the room.

The other half are the ones I need to be concerned about, and that half has split itself very neatly into two groups. The first is the Career Tributes, trained in the wealthier Districts from early on to fight in the Games. It's technically against the rules for this to happen, but every year the tributes from 1, 2, and 4 tend to look born for this moment. They also tend to be the only ones that want to be here.

Of course this year would be the massive exception.

In the history of the Hunger Games, there have never been more than seven volunteers in the same year. This year exactly half of us are, myself included.

Peeta had come to me laughing the day before, something about how a famous talk show host has named the group of unexpected volunteers the Mysterious Teen Titans. Peeta was laughing partly because of the name, but mostly because of the debate over whether I was a part of the group. I'd volunteered as well, and apparently that was enough.

As it turns out, most people have decided that despite having a reason to volunteer, I am a Titan. I wonder if I can use this to my advantage. If nothing else the publicity certainly can't hurt.

The debates over who exactly should be classified as one of the "Titans" have been a major topic of debate, if the broadcasts that are always playing in the background in my suite are any indication. I've left the talk shows on only to try to learn more about my opponents, to see if I can glean anything useful from the gossip.

The results of my efforts have been mixed, to say the least.

Beyond me, the exact roster for the Titans is in no way solidified. Four are on it for sure: William and Kon, two boys from 3 and 10; and M'gann and Alice, girls from 6 and 8. All of their names are old if they're not simply bizarre, though outside of that they seem fairly normal. Except for M'gann, whom I've heard has started all-out fashion wars thanks to how her dress color contrasted with her dyed skin.

Oh, the talk surrounding him is almost entertaining. I was sure that the rumors of him having _gills_ are a combination of a publicity stunt, the bizarre need for news during the most eventful Games in years, and a creative designer. Even after seeing the video of Dictrict 4's, with the closeups making no efforts to conceal his neck, I've been having trouble believing it.

But no, here he is. Gills and webbed hands and all, and not five feet away from me.

It's because of these attributes that people have been trying to group him in with the Mysterious Teen Titans. Well, that and the bizarre name. Kaldur'ahm isn't what you call yourself to avoid attention. Others give the argument that he is both from District 4 and volunteered, so he should be considered a Career tribute. I have no idea which label would be more advantageous to him, but then he probably knows more about the situation than I do. Despite all of my efforts that isn't a hard thing to lay claim to, unfortunately.

Timothy Gray, from 5, is the oddest case. He wouldn't even be a blip on anyone's radar, as a normal and somewhat disturbing case of being chosen despite being barely old enough to be entered into the Games at all.

But I have never heard anyone laugh like that after being chosen. Ever. I've never heard a sound like that on Reaping Day at all.

Most of the Careers even look nervous when they volunteer. Those who don't maybe scream confidence or charisma or whatever their chosen angle is as they walk to the platform, but never something that lighthearted. And definitely not from someone who hadn't volunteered.

If nothing else, most talk show hosts at least seemed to consider him an honorary member of the Teen Titans.

I've spent too long staring at the other tributes, and barely notice when the group begins to break up and disperse to all different corners of the training grounds. Peeta nudges me, bringing to my attention how most of the Careers have headed for the biggest and most intimidating weapons. Then I see others, the smaller and weaker tributes shakily going through their first lesson with a weapon. A few of the Titans are standing around nonchalantly, surveying the room as if it really doesn't matter what station they choose. One or two look like they're deciding to not choose a station at all.

It's one way to state overconfidence, I suppose.

Peeta and I decide to go tie knots.

* * *

**Everybody Loves Rue**

-This is almost sickening,- Artemis comments through the mental link. -I feel like someone's going to burst into tears if I look at them too hard.-

The Team was scattered through a circle of other tributes, listening to the instructions being given out by a woman that seemed to be the head trainer. The mood was apprehensive to say the least.

-We discussed this last night,- Kaldur thought. -We need to give the others as little reason as possible to fear us. Possibly we can even earn some of their trusts.-

The head trainer sounded like she was nearing the end of her list of stations. Artemis "humped" as if she were actually giving the statement thought, and didn't quite manage to hide the way her lips quirked upwards when one of the stations was "archery."

-On second thought, you guys can get right on that. I'll be sure to show the jerks in here who not to mess with.-

Then the meeting was over and tributes were free to go to any station they wished. The blonde disappeared into the huge gymnasium, merrily ignoring Kaldur's halfhearted attempts to stop her. She needed the release, and the Team's leader knew better than to let her emotions boil.

The archer would be glared at almost continuously for the next three days, even when she moved on to other stations. Maybe it had something to do with how she could sense when people were watching and made sure to show off in those moments.

-So,- Megan started, glancing at her remaining teammates, who were also the only people still in the front of the room, -I wonder if there are any skills being taught in here Batman hasn't already covered...- Since Robin had managed to vanish in the middle of a bright, open, well-occupied space and Connor had apparently decided to sulk in a corner (or rather, covertly use his super hearing to listen for anything important without being distracted), only she, Wally, and Kaldur were nearby.

Robin was surprisingly the one to answer her question. -Yeah, actually. Pretty sure our training never covering how to make a hammock _or_ how to make your own fishing hook. You guys can go wild.-

Wally shoved his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to nonchalantly look around the room. -Rob, dude, where did you go?-

Naturally the Boy Wonder just laughed.

* * *

A fight was raging near the knife throwing range. The boy from 6, Ash, was staring at the one from 2 with something similar to anger building up in his gut as the Career Tribute demanded to know where his dagger had gone. Ash didn't know, and he'd been minding his own business before this idiot had suddenly exploded. Why would he even bother stealing it if there was an entire rack of the things three feet away?

From above the a small girl watched the scene and giggled softly, toying with the stolen weapon. The boy from 2, Cato, had temper problems and could probably be turned on his fellow Careers, and Ash only looked slightly more level headed. Rue shifted her position on the support beam and tilted the dagger a little, wondering what she should do with it now that she had it.

A laugh barely loud enough for her to hear mixed with her own. The girl tensed and whirled around on her toes with perfect grace. It didn't even look like the action had put her in danger of falling off of the rafters.

A few feet away the boy from 5 perched on a beam parallel to her own. Blue eyes stared at her through the dim lighting in a way that was appraising, but not exactly predatory. He was the next youngest in the Games that year, but his tiny frame didn't seem to come from lack of food. In fact he looked like he was pure muscle.

Rue began to scope out the fastest way down without injuring herself.

It wasn't necessary. The boy let his smile widen as he whispered " _Nice_ work. Want to see what happens when he finds out he was wrong?" The boy held out his hand and looked at the dagger in hers. Rue hesitated, wondering if he was going to point out what she'd done to the Career and make her a target. Something playful in her eyes made her slowly hold the weapon a little closer to him, and that was all the boy needed to grin even _more _, whisk it out of her hand, and fall.

The fall didn't end in a splat, which was impressive enough. More than that, if must have been completely silent too. The boy landed behind some blocky training equipment, but no one even glanced towards him. By the time the girl from 1 was glancing around to see what had bushed against her, he was already halfway back to where she was watching the whole scene.

As the boy settled on the rafters again, right next to her this time, Cato saw the girl's movement and set in on her, jerking the dagger away before implying future threats with it. From his shouts, it sounded like her name was Glimmer.

Setting those two against each other was a smart move. They were both Careers, and the more tension and distrust inside that group the better.

The blue-eyed boy next to her stuck out a hand, and suddenly she felt silly for not knowing his name. "Is it just me, or could this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?" Rue let herself smile and take his hand, trying to discern exactly how much strength the other's grip could have. It was a lot. As if reading her mind, he finished, "I'm Timothy, by the way. You can call me Tim."

* * *

Rue had split ways with Timothy soon after, and she'd spent her time shadowing various other tributes. Maybe more of it was spent following the two from 12, Katniss and Peeta, than she would have liked to admit. It was silly to become attached to another tribute like that, especially only because Katniss resembled one of her older sisters, but that knowledge didn't seem to stop her. It became so frequent the two even noticed her presence.

Come lunch time the girl was still reeling because- did she have an alliance? There was always the possibility that Tim was just planning to lull her into a false sense of security, but he seemed smarter than to take such an offensive stance with one of the ostensibly weakest tributes. Not to mention he may have decided their similar skill set was an advantage he wanted.

She wouldn't give him much trust, at least not yet, but this was more than she could have ever hoped for.

Lunch came, and the Career Tributes were sitting together. Katniss and Peeta did the same. Everyone else looked around the cafeteria awkwardly and spaced themselves as far apart as they could. Rue, seeing no other option, did the same.

No more than two bites into her meal there was sound of another person sitting down across the table. Glancing up, Rue was halfway surprised to not see Timothy looking back at her. Instead it was the green girl from 6 smiling bashfully.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" The twelve year old shook her head, and the other beamed. "I'm M'gann. You're Rue, right?"

Trying to go over the name in her head to be sure she had it right, Rue nodded. "Did... you say Megan?" Which was an old name, but it was the closest thing Rue could think of to the stilted word that had come out of her mouth.

A laugh. "M'gann, sorry. But if it's easier you can call me Megan. It doesn't matter to me either way."

Suddenly Rue heard soft footsteps barely two feet behind her. She tensed and looked, feeling her neck prickle. Seeing Tim's eyes again gave her a distinct feeling of de ja vu. Was this going to happen often?

The raven haired boy sat down next to her without even asking, maybe assuming their new alliance meant she was more comfortable around him. Maybe he was right. There was definitely something friendly and familiar in the way he moved, and again in the easy way he introduced himself. He had probably chosen the charismatic angle for his interview.

"Hey, your name is Megan, right?" At least she hadn't been the only person to get it wrong.

The green girl smiled welcomingly. "Close enough. And you're Timothy?"

"Call me Tim."

"Well then Tim, Rue, it's nice to meet you two."

A few tables down, Thresh didn't smile at the group surrounding Rue. That didn't mean he didn't want to.

(And then they all became BFFs and there were puppies and rainbows and lots of trolling.)

**Anon review replies:**

**GIRLWONDER: Hope this update made up for the missed update last week! Next week I'll sure sure to be right on schedule. Especially since that's the only chapter standing between me and revealing That Secret Plot Twist. The one that makes me grin every time I think about it. Two, maybe three more chapters. *evil laughter* To answer your question about Spitfire, as a fellow shipper I'd love to inch them towards each other during this fic, but I really just don't think there's going to be room, and besides that I'm atrocious at writing romance. But, more Katniss and Peeta! I'm shamelessly coddling all of my favorite Hunger Games characters in this fic, and for all of the chapters to come. As always your reviews give me the warm fuzzies, so thanks for reviewing!**

**Random: D'aaaw, thanks! I'll do my best to keep updating every Wednesday**


	6. Calm Before

-We have a problem.-

-What is it, Superboy?- Kaldur replied through the mental link immediately.

-I've overheard at least three different conversations by now about the same thing. There's a fear going around that the "Mysterious Teen Titans" are going to team up and tip the balance of power in the Games. There's a threat that the family of anyone who joins that alliance is going to go missing.-

-That's horrible!- Megan exclaimed.

-That is troubling news,- Kaldur thought. -Robin, you've successfully made an alliance already?-

-Sorry, who are you guys again? Why are there voices in my head? I'm just some kid from a backwoods colony! Please don't hurt me!-

Wally had to stop himself from chuckling out loud. -Dork.-

Megan paused. -But won't they know you're not from District 5?-

-The guys high up enough know,- Robin agreed, -but they've obviously been keeping it quiet that we're not from the Empire of Evil. Rue doesn't know, and they can't make an example of anyone if they can't say what she did wrong.-

-Kaldur, you still planning on hanging out with the evil sadist creeps?- Wally asked.

-Doubtful. If nothing else, the girl from my District knows I am not... "from around these parts." She will most likely confirm to the other Careers that I should be excluded, if my physical appearance had not made that a reality already.-

Artemis huffed. -Well this is just great. Operation "Pretend to Not Know Each Other and Try to be Normal" is obviously a huge success. Can I pull out all of the stops tomorrow?-

-Hey, that's right!- Wally agreed. -They said that tomorrow the Gamemakers of Evil are going to see us all privately and rank us according to our awesome, right?-

No more needed to be said, and Kaldur weighed his options through Wally's drawn out _pleeeeeeaaaaaaaassseee?_ Someone was already prepared for them, and at least knew about some of his and Superboy's abilities. Last-minute changes might be made to the arena to prevent them from escaping, but as long as they limited themselves (M'gann didn't demonstrate that she could fly)...

Kaldur eventually agreed because there were pros (somewhere, there must have been some kind of advantage to this) that outweighed the cons. Not because he was itching to show these pompous bureaucrats the result of a real leader training a successor.

**The third day of training.**

The Gamemakers, the men and women that would be watching and rating their every action, stared down from their high-up observation box. Below them was a room filled with training equipment, weapons, obstacle courses, and the second tribute to come out of District 3. The redhead stared back up at them, then smiled.

"So let me get this straight," he started in his outside voice. A few of the more distracted judges looked up from their plates of food in surprise. The unspoken rule that they weren't to be directly addressed had been clean shattered through, and William East didn't seem to care.

"Just... just being 100% on this. I'm supposed to do my best at whatever I'm good at until you dismiss me, so you can rank my skill on a scale from one to awesome. _You_ want _me_ to do the very best, most physically impressive thing I can, holding nothing back?" He stared up at the judges both eagerly and patiently.

After an awkward pause, one of the Gamemakers conceded that the tribute probably wasn't going to act until he was addressed. Appearances of power and control over the situation aside, they had a schedule to keep, and looking at the specific "talents" of each provincial child was going to take all day as it was. He leaned over, pressed a button, and spoke slowly into the room's barely-used intercom.

"Yes, that is correct. Now would you please proceed?" His voice bespoke as much bored annoyance as he could muster. Considering that particular attitude was one he wore for most of the day, that was quite a lot.

None of the judges were bored for the rest of the day, and "annoyed" wasn't quite the right description for what they would be feeling. "Confused because they didn't plan this," "terrified," "desperate," and "desperately drunk" were all perfectly appropriate phrases for the situation, however.

**Katniss**

Haymitch said that there would be ten or fifteen minutes in between each Tribute's final demonstration to the Gamemakers. As Peeta and I sit at lunch, waiting for the minutes and then hours to go by, we can't help but notice that Haymitch's timeframe hasn't proved remotely accurate.

As the hours tick on it becomes harder for Peeta and I to find things to pretend to talk about, and the false air of closeness between us begins to grow strained. Peeta remarks, smiling and laughing as if it were a huge joke, that it's always the Titans that leave the largest time gap until the next demonstration.

It must be evening when Rue is called. Peeta and I have slowly been dropping the friendly act as the time passed, and I suspect that not even real friends could have that many funny stories or easy conversation to tell each other anyway. We sit in silence until it is Peeta's turn, and not fifteen minutes they call my name.

Immediately it is obvious that _everything_ is wrong.

Despite obvious attempts to clean up, the room is a mess. There are charred sections on the floor and walls, at least half of the room's lights have been hastily replaced, huge chunks of wall are scattered around the room, and water is dripping from the ceiling.

The Gamemakers themselves are split evenly between chugging alcoholic drinks and staring at me nervously. A bulky metal frame is lining their observation box. I recognize it as a portable force field generators I've seen used by the rare Panem official traveling to District 12. It must have been installed recently, if the splatter of _something_ on the observation box's back wall is any indication.

I'm watched closely by those who aren't too drunk to focus as I head for the archery range. The range itself is far too limited; it only consists of the standard targets and dummies. As I step away from the assigned range I feel the mood become expectant and tense.

Whatever the other tributes accomplished, it seems they expect me to follow in that direction. Boiling frustration suddenly rises, because I know I can't possibly live up to the impossible, superhuman bar that has been set. But then, maybe this whole scene is a setup. It could be a new (or old, really) trick to see how we'll react under pressure. The more I think about it, the more likely the latter possibility seems.

Either way I have decided to use the attention I've been given to the fullest.

But, just like everything else in the room, even the bow itself is wrong. The string is tighter than I'm used to, and something about it just feels off. I send an arrow at a training dummy, but it misses by a couple of inches.

Frustrated, I decide to just use my next few shots as practice to warm up and get used to the bow, but it's too late. The mood in the room has already snapped into a tired relief. The Gamemakers begin to talk to each other all at once, loudly and obliviously.

Glancing back, it would seem that a few are still looking my way. I still have a chance.

I spend a moment or two firing practice arrows at various objects until I have a feel for the bow. Once I pin a dummy through the heat I decide it's time to let loose. A severed rope, destroyed sandbag, shoulder roll, and skewered ceiling light later, I'm satisfied that it is excellent shooting.

It is also too late. What attention I commanded has disappeared completely, and no one is even looking my way. A roast pig is being delivered onto their table. It seems to have taken interest away from me completely.

Suddenly I am furious, that with my life on the line I'm being marginalized by a dead pig and standards manipulated into being incomparable with anything I could ever manage. I take a deep breath to steady the heart beat thundering through my skull, then without thinking draw an arrow out of my quiver. The arrow is sent straight for the apple in the pig's mouth.

Instead my arrow bounces harmlessly off of the force field, with none of the Gamemakers to even notice what happened.

The wood and metal weapon clatters harmlessly, uselessly to the floor. Obviously it's better for me, for everyone that such an appalling act went unnoticed.

That doesn't mean that I didn't still want the satisfaction of seeing their faces when my arrow flew into their safe little world with deadly accuracy.

Face burning, I stare at the useless arrow on the ground until one of the judges notices I'm done, then tells me I can leave. I head to bed directly, unable to deal with the nagging feeling that the session should have gone differently, if not better.

**Backlash**

The Capitol exploded with excitement the moment the scores were released. Theoretically, it was impossible for anyone to score a 12. The definition of the perfect "12" ranking was "inhumanly good." No one had ever gotten the score in the history of the Games.

The Mysterious Teen Titans had earned their name again. Every suspected member of the group earned a 12 except for Timothy Gray and Katniss Everdeen. The two were quickly cut from most every mental roster for the group, left to dangle with the other, less fascinating of that year's tributes.

As a side note, the average ranking for that year was only slightly higher than that of previous ones. It is admittedly difficult to fairly judge a normal group of children trying to show off a little of their fighting prowess when they are put in direct comparison to a highly trained black ops group.

**The Interviews**

**William East - District 3**

William East walked onto stage with food. The redhead grinned brightly at the audience that filled absolutely every seat in the huge theater, seemingly without being phased at all. Caesar Flickerman, the man whose job it was to interview the tributes before the Games every year, waited on stage just a few feet away. Something between the man's power blue everything and the stage lights and the upbeat genre of music he'd never heard before playing in the background, the entire scene took on a surreal feeling.

A Greg's Great Gooey Non-Melt Choco-Bar Wonder original was in his hand, but quickly disappearing. The blue-dyed interviewer opened up with a basic introduction of William, then a question obviously bought and paid for by a company with deep pockets.

"So William, what is it you're eating that seems to have your attention?"

Caesar manages to understand most of the response, blurred and muddled as it was by both speed and a mouthful of food. The "Call me Will" and forcefully rehearsed "Greg's Great Gooey Goodies' Circuit Board Yummy Thing (probably not the official title, sorry to his mentors they were great people)" could be easily mistaken to be in the same sentence if not the same word.

An easy laugh later and a repeat of the (official) title of the candy company's name, and the subject is easily switched. Questions about his impossible score of twelve, what he thinks about the competition of people with the same score, and what his greatest strength will be in the arena.

The temptation to rub all of his knowledge and awesome friends and superspeed in this jerk's face is getting to Wally, and of course his instinct chose that time to slow down the world to an insufferable crawl. Glancing at an off-stage timer, the speedster sees he still has a full minute and a half left of the allotted three for interviewing and almost dies.

Instead he occupies himself by dodging questions. "Wul," he swallowed through a mouth of chocolate and started again. "Unless you count eating all of the food in the arena before anyone else can get to it, which is probably possible," a laugh ripples through the audience, "people keep telling me I could probably talk someone to death. See? Here's my life story: Ncthrwsbynmdwllmnwhlvdhspny."

The audience died of laughter at his talent for talking at extreme, incomprehensible speeds. Wally was careful not to speed up to the point that his voice actually rose in pitch, which was harder than it sounds.

Later, those curious or paranoid enough to go back and slow down the audio to extremes (after doing a decent patchwork job of figuring out what he was saying; their equipment wasn't i_that_/i good) were regaled by a tale of extreme bravery, starring Knight Wallman and his valiant subject, Jake the Dinosaur Dog as they had constant "adventure time" with one another.

**Kaldur'ahm - District 4**

"Kaldur, you've seemed to be perfectly calm every time I look your way. I swear the world could be ending and you'd probably be the most level headed person in any given room. What gives you that confidence?"

"I believe the saying is that my skin is naturally much thicker than average."

-Did you just make a pun, Kaldur?-

-Shut up, speedy,- Artemis snapped back. -We stayed quiet for your fifteen minutes of fame.-

"I have no trouble believing it, I promise. Not sure that I'm supposed to ask, but does anyone else really want to know what's going on with those gills of yours?" The approving cry from the audience was almost deafening. It was almost a silly comment; of course Caesar knew exactly what he was allowed to ask.

"What would you like to know?"

"Well, for starters, are they even real?"

"Of course," the half-Atlantean answered honestly. "I was born with them."

"Incredible. That's a story I'd love to hear, if only we had more time. Do they let you breathe under water?"

"They do."

**Timothy Gray - District 5**

Timothy Gray was a natural on stage. Any and all girls, women, and a number of older gentlemen who were susceptible to falling into love with a thirteen year old were, by the end of that night, thoroughly smitten. On that note, the level of his popularity was a little disturbing.

If the interview was to be believed, the Capitol was a wonderful, magical place where everyone was amazingly kind, giving, and attractive. The boy from 5 wished to win the Games solely so he could better get to know the fascinating people of Panem's finest city. The details of his background didn't even matter because they faded the radiant, full glory of the wealthy. That went doubly for the reasons he'd laughed after being picked and the five he'd scored in training.

Oh yes, Richard Grayson knew how to work a crowd. Especially a crowd of the pompous rich.

"So, if you had to be completely, 100% honest with everyone in here tonight, what is your biggest secret when it comes to your thoughts on the Capitol?"

A cackle. "I think that it is so i_not_/i asterous."

Caesar laughed good-naturedly. "I don't suppose we get to find out what that word means?"

"Nah, it's an inside joke."

**M'gann M'orzz - District 6**

M'gann followed her mentor's instruction to pick an angle for her interview. In short, she was the sweetest, purest, kindest embodiment of goodwill to grace the stage.

"So, I hear you don't mind it when people mispronounce your name as Megan?"

"Not at all! My real name is admittedly kind of odd, and I love old fashioned things. Megan is such a pretty name, don't you think?"

"I certainly do. It suits you, both of your names do. So M'gann, or Megan, whoever you are, is there anything you think might give you an edge over the other, stronger opponents?"

"Oh, definitely! Um, not to sound prideful, but I've been told I have a knack for looking past appearances and seeing the good in people. I guess that you could say my strength is making and keeping allies. Plus, I'm very... adaptable."

**Alice Carroll - District 8**

"Tell me, Alice. What has it been like, trying to orient yourself just in time for the Games? What gives you your air of confidence?

"My skills. The ones I earned."

"As one of the five tributes to score a twelve in your training, I really don't think there's any doubt about that. So what does it feel like to be included in a group that's been dubbed the Mysterious Teen Titans?"

"Weird. I don't know any of those other people I've supposedly been put on a team with," (they were still giving token efforts to stay separate in people's minds, for now) "and the score I made was my own. Nobody made it for me because of some exclusive superkids club."

**Kon - District 10**

"So Kon, do you like the Capitol so far?"

"No."

To his credit, Caesar didn't even seem thrown off by this blunt reply, though he play-acted a crestfallen attitude. "Aw, that's too bad, though the honesty's appreciated. I tend to think we're rather charming in these parts, myself."

Kon stared back blankly.

"But what is it you don't like then? I have to say it wouldn't be very nice at all if you didn't like us for no reason."

"It reminds me of where I was born."

A grimace. "Ah, bad memories. I think we can all relate to that one." Sympathetic noises came from the crowd. "I'm not sure what we have in common with District 10, but whatever it is, I hope you learn to see the good in what you see now."

"Uh, yeah."

"I have heard some funny stuff floating around about you. What about the rumors that you're indestructible? Any truth to them?"

"No."

"You must think you are, to volunteer like you did. After so many others stepped up that same day, I thought my heart was going to give out! What made you do it? Do you think you have a chance at winning?"

"I don't really know. Just. The boy that was called, he had a limp. I figured I stood a better chance than he did."

"And that's a really noble thing for you to do, Kon. I'm touched. Anybody else feel a sudden rush of affection for this big guy?"

The crowd went wild, and the comment about him not liking the Capitol was all but smoothed over and forgotten.

**The Starcrossed**

Then the two tributes from 12 turned out to be beautiful star-crossed lovers, a boy and a girl destined to never be with their one true love. They would literally have to die or kill each other before having a happy ending. All of the excitement made sure those watching closely were going to die of sheer excitement.

**The Calm Before**

Twenty-four tributes stood in an underground facility, anxiety rolling in their stomachs as they stepped onto a small metal plate. Thirty seconds passed as the plates all rose into the air in tandem, pausing in pitch black tunnels while the dramatic tension rose.

One announcer spoke through the whole arena and every television in Panem, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!" Twenty-four metal plates arrived into a blindingly bright world of cool breezes and the smell of pine at the same time.

The rules stated that for the following sixty seconds, no one left their plate on pain of being blown to pieces by the land mines buried around their feet.

Nineteen teenagers paused to scope out their surroundings and let their eyes adjust to the light.

Two poised themselves for pickup.

Three tensed their bodies to i_escape_./i

All camera shots immediately focus on the green girl that let her face break into a grin as she rose into the air. Slowly at first, just to make sure she was seen. Eighteen tributes focused on her in awe and no little amount of terror. (Except for the ones that looked furious.)

Suddenly M'gann shot through the air, straight up above her plate. Different camera angles drank up every detail of what was happening, from the way her light brown clothes and red hair and green skin make her look, from down below, like a bizarrely colored bird, to how she was flying in a perfect circle over the ring of tributes. She hadn't looked once at the Cornucopia placed in the perfect center of that ring. The huge piece of metal architecture filled with everything needed to survive in the arena was usually the center of conflict in the Games.

The first ten seconds of the Games were held in a perfect trance.

M'gann smiled and waved at no one in particular, doing a spin in the air before moving higher up.

It was in that exact moment that the explosions went off.

**A/N Aaaand cliffhanger. Kind of. Meh. I wanted to end on a bigger one, but I didn't have time to write out that much more fic before I leave for an internet-less wasteland for the next two weeks. If there's anything Greg and Brandon taught me, it's that the only way to go on hiatus is by leaving your audience off the edge of a cliff. Also there's apparently a rule somewhere that I'm not allowed to update more than two weeks in a row without something happening. *sigh* Oh well.**

**As always, thanks to everyone that subscribed and favorited last chapter!**

**Thanks to my reviewers last chapter, Swideswipe's Mechanic, GIRLWONDER, Random, xAsClicheAsItCanBe, Hinn-Raven, and gardensigernumbli!**

**Anon review replies:**

**GIRLWONDER: Glad the title change wasn't too corny! I just felt awkward with there being at least two other stories with the exact same title all floating around. Wally riding a dino. That… WOULD go on his Christmas card, wouldn't it? This calls for photoshop, I swear. (SomaybeI''ttellanyone.) Thanks as always for reviewing and generally being amazing!**

**Random: There's a reason there was a section titled "Everybody loves Rue." It's true. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible to not want to squeeze her to death. Sorry about the lack of Spitfire! Not only would be be really juxtaposed in an otherwise gen story, but I've tried writing romance before. It… was not pretty. At all. Sadly since we're already past training I couldn't really work in your suggestion. I don't know that it would really work with the rules set in the story anyway. But thanks for your thoughts anyway! All of these ideas are always really neat, and I can't tell you how much of this story is just stuff I heard other people mention, then ran away with**


	7. React

*****NOTE: All impenetrable Panem slang commonly used by the online community has been translated into its 21st century equivalent for your reading pleasure. -The Intern*****

**Welcome to the Official Hunger Games Forum!**

MOD NOTICE: Any and all new threads discussing the Teen Titans will be deleted! We have enough already, there's probably a discussion out there that fits your needs and opinions already.

List of current threads:

OMFGFFGFADXQCQX

I HATE TE NEW TWIS T

Breathe, you guys

CANNOT BREATHE

Cheap Cheaters

Official Kon fanclub 3

ugh i hate mgan megan mgannnn however u spel it

I cannot even

Holy shiznit biscuit

Callin it now FAAAAKE

page 1 of 2886 next page

Callin it now FAAAAKE

Title. Seriously you guys, Gamemakers are stupid if they want us to think this is anythign other than a stupid raitn g gimick. Stuid contrived Capitol fascist marketing

Dude. Your brain. Use it.

**EDIT: Thread deleted

**LOG NOTE #1: User forum access restricted

**LOG NOTE #2: User account number recommended to Head of Online Harmony for review.

OMFGFFGFADXQCQX

Wat. Flying. Who. Megan.

in the air

best games Evr i new it

lol learn to grammar

lol Learn to verb

said Pot to Mr Kettle

wats a kettle

GUYS FOCUS GIRL IN AIR

meh technology

Megans too sweet to cheat dont insult meh bb

Oh yeah? Then what do you call whats happenign right now?

Natural skilz duh

TEN SECONDS IN MINES JUST WENT OFF!

Nice, first time in six years.

I thought they were getting smarter, but o.

Grife. They were doing so well, too.

Who died can't tell.

2 ppl. Same time. Mm, who want sto smell these fish.

?

Fish stink, and this whole thing is fishy. Therefore.

Riiiight.

Fish smell wonderful!

Not frsh

u smelled frsh fish/

Once.

It was Kon and Wil. Imma go cry now.

Not half the TT! whyyyy

I SEE EM NOT DEAD

i cannot even

OTL

My bbs are muttations its not just Kal! best

More explosions?

maybe some1 dyed this time im bord alredy

HOW ARE U BORED BY THIS?

No blood yet. -_-

Fair nuff.

Oh hey, we can see what's going on again. Looks like they saved Kaldur and Alice.

did anyone see how?

Played back the recording I'm making. HD glory saus Will'z a friggin speed demon and Kon can fly.

Best muttations.

Must be Capitol's way of declaring to Panem they can screw with people now too. Ingenious.

NO DON'T RUN AWAY. Dangit, literally no one is fighting.

Dude, they just broke the pattern thats been boring me forever. Dont whine cause its different, wait until they inevitably screw it up

Seriousky just go watch vid from Games from before your time if your that needy

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"Why does this committee exist again?"

"To find out things when everyone else does, it would seem."

"This is crossing the line. Actions that could endanger the integrity of the Games forever, and they happen because some bozo in the shadows has too much power and is good at covering his tracks! We interview with Snow tomorrow."

"Has anyone been able to track down the head of the Network?"

"Not yet, but I'm getting close."

"Thank God."

**MASSIVE AND KIND OF IMPORTANT A/N**

**Alright, now for the point of this update:**

**I've been gone since early summer. And I am a horrible, horrible writer. More than that, I've had this much written out for months, but was waiting to write about 3,000 words more before I posted anything. Obviously that worked out well.**

**I COULD list all 365 excuses I have as to why I haven't written jack squat of this story, but you know as well as I do that they'd barely be valid. Now, I'd love to be all "Don't worry just wait because I'll never abandon this story 3," but if I did that, I'd turn into one of those jerk authors that keep promising an update that never comes. So I won't say that. I'd promise myself I'd get around to it eventually, just like I've been doing for about six months now, until we all forgot this ever existed. And that would make me horrifically sad.**

**Woah, calm down! I'm not abandoning it, either! Really and truly, I have too much of my essential, raw, babies of ideas that I want to grow and develop into, eventually, something novel-worthy. I love all of the concepts that go in here. (You just haven't seen most of them yet. It kills me I got stuck on this chapter, because, along with being the hardest to write, it has The Big, Mind-Shattering, Oh-Crap-I-Think-We-Just-Switched-Genres reveal in it. So. *sigh*)**

**ANYWAY. Not abandoning anything. I'm just going to have to work with myself a little.**

**First of all, rewrites. I have honestly, stupidly written myself into a corner, and that's the biggest reason all of this chapter's drafts have fallen face-first in the dirt. I'm going to go through all of the OC's and replace as many of them as I can, ESPECIALLY the other tributes, with characters from future!DCU. I'd probably have more options if it weren't for the timeskip *cough*Bart*cough,* but still. Terry McGinnis? Probably happening. Booster Gold? If I can help it.**

**I know, I'm excited too. (Why did I ever go with OCs what was I thinking this will make next chapter so much easier.)**

**MOST IMPORTANTLY. IF YOU SKIPPED EVERYTHING ELSE READ THIS: I need a beta. I need a beta. I really, extremely, desperately need a beta. I need, not just someone to spellcheck me and growl at my run on sentences and muggy paragraphs, I need a hardass that will bother me continually if I've written anything yet. I need someone who might be willing to listen to all of my stupid ideas and tell me which ones enter the realm of nonsensical overgrown plot that I naturally tend towards. Maybe help with alternative ideas. My laziness knows no bounds, and the best way to get me out of it is to start me on concepts all over again. In short, I need a fanfic nanny that bugs me about doing my homework. A bonus, I guess, would be that you get to hear my entire plot ahead of time, if that's much incentive at all, but this is still a lot to ask of someone.**

**Still, I refuse to let this go without a fight and am doing everything I can to keep this fic train a-rollin', so I really hope someone might be interested.**

**THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HAS FOLLOWED, FAVORITED, REVIEWED OR JUST READ, SCOFFED IN DISGUST AND LEFT. I LOVE ALL OF YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEINGS.**

**And the part where I lavish love on my reviewers because I was a jerk and didn't respond to 95% of them because meh I usually do that while writing the next chapter: Random (who pointed out that for a while there the characters were climatically eating clams before the storm), DieForPie, Unleash the Shadow, GIRLWONDER, gradensigernumbli, Guest, Phantom 4 Life, UDFlyers, chrnarnia3, Guest, Le Fay, and Chocochino11**


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